


Distance

by feverpitch



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:47:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitch/pseuds/feverpitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lukas leaves, Bastian doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distance

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a creative writing class, with a bit changed around of course.  
> My teacher hated it.  
> I hope you hate it less.
> 
> Inspired by the song Jet Lag, by Frank Turner.  
> "Well I am jet set, jet lag, jaded...  
> You're always 16 hours ahead  
> Quietly reminding me how I used to be..."

_Lukas_  
   The monotonous tone of the engine drills through my teeth and drones out the loud ache of my heart. Every mile climbed into the air is another mile away from you. I look out the oval window and see dark clouds beneath the silver belly of the airplane. I wonder if it’s raining where you sleep. I hope so. Do you remember the time we danced in the downpour? I do. But I try to forget as the engine moans on and on and an overly cheery flight attendant smiles, peanuts or a cookie? and I ask for a bourbon and liquid forgiveness.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

 _Bastian_  
   I don’t drive you to the airport because I know I can’t. And when you roll out of bed at some ungodly hour to leave me, I wake up but I don’t say anything because I know I can’t. I pretend to be asleep but I cringe at the cold space where your body used to be and I watch you pack your suitcases and try to memorize the color of your hair (golden honey). The early morning sun catches it and I’m reminded of the day we met. I am pretending to sleep when you kiss my forehead and whisper something into my cheek but I can’t hear it and it sounds an awful lot like crying. The front door closes softly and I’m left trying to remember what you taste like.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

 _Lukas_  
   In between fits of airplane sleep I find myself mumbling your name and sliding the letters over my tongue and in between my teeth and I see the man sitting next to me staring at my mouth quizzically and probably wondering what my problem is. Well sir, I wish I could say, I don’t quite know either. All I know is that I miss his eyes and the way his fingers fit mine like puzzle pieces, and sir, oh sir, if you could see his smile. And sir, if you were to know the way his mouth tastes and the way his teeth are shaped, maybe you’d know what it feels like to have your soul snatched and butchered and scattered behind the airplane’s propellers to be blown in thousands of directions. I think they all drowned somewhere around the Atlantic.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

 _Bastian_  
   When I roll out of bed in the mornings I still look for you. Like maybe you’ll be in the kitchen cooking up breakfast like you used to or maybe you’ll be passed out on the couch because you didn’t want to wake me up. But instead, I walk into an empty kitchen and I make a pot of coffee for two because I never knew how to only make one and I never needed to. And then I walk into an emptier living room and sit alone on the couch. I hope you’re doing better than I am.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

  
 _Lukas_  
   I’ve learned a lot here and I’ve met a lot of people, but none of them have captured as much of my attention as your memory has. It’s been so long. I’m ready to come home.  
I hope you’ll have me.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

  
 _Bastian_  
   I had heard that you were coming back, and I didn’t want to care. Everyone told me how excited I must be and how much I must have missed you. They’re half right. The truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared that your hair turned lighter in the other hemisphere’s rays and I’m scared that you met someone else and I’m scared that you have forgotten the first time we kissed. And so when I park my car and I walk to the terminal and I locate the gate you’ll be arriving at, I hide behind a big stone pillar. I’m scared that I’ve forgotten how to breathe.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

 _Lukas_  
   My fingernails are ragged edges and my eyes are bloodshot and I ask the woman sitting next to me can you tell I haven’t slept? and she laughs awkwardly and turns her head towards the aisle as if something interesting is happening. The word “home” sounds so familiar in my mouth, but bitter. It tastes like guilt and broken promises. It makes my tongue bleed.  
We land and my heart paces my rib cage like a caged tiger as all of the passengers struggle to reach the terminal first. Somebody’s mother cries and hugs them. A grandfather picks up his tiny granddaughter and calls her beautiful and she shrieks in joy as her braids bounce against her back. I scan the gray rows of reception but I don’t see you. I feel like I’ve been pricked with thorns and I tell myself how stupid I am to hope and how I don’t deserve anything and I start to walk away to find a taxi when I hear your voice ring out so clearly above the din.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

 _Bastian_  
   I yell your name and you turn around and I’ve never seen you look more beautiful. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is a perfect o-shape and your hair isn’t really all that lighter (still honey). My legs start moving without me telling them to and I crash into your arms and I press my face into your shoulder and I breathe you in. The airport and the people and the baggage carts disappear and all I feel is you.  
✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

 _Lukas_  
   I missed the way you say my name. My knees smash against the linoleum floor as we collide but I can’t feel anything except warmth and sunshine and you. I whisper words into your forehead: i’msorryi’msorryi’msorry but I can feel the vibrations of your voice on my shoulder: staywithmestaywithmestaywithme.  
I fall in love with you again as I hand you the flowers from my backpack (squished and missing petals) and your eyes reflect my soul like mirrors.


End file.
